This is my spot right here. Well, our spot, as my girl and I both love it. High Park in Toronto. It's a good escape, a nice spot for a walk, and a great place to see a busted duck with feather's missing and a limp that'll never heal. My first memory of this place is when my Pops took my brothers and I for ice-cream one summer afternoon. I remember he (or my mother?) had just bought us new, cheap sunglasses. I remember an enjoyable swing session, then a walk back to the car. The sunglasses never made it. I ran back to the swing spot only to be disappointed. Gone. Maybe under some gravel? Maybe swiped by someone? I shed a tear. But from that day on, I have never placed a pair of sunglasses on my frame. Traumatic. High Park used to be privately owned. See you in the Spring Big Homey.